


A Ghost of A Stranger

by blockiebee



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blockiebee/pseuds/blockiebee
Summary: So this was GONNA be a cute lil fic about Ghostbur pranking Tommy but no I just had to make it angsty.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	A Ghost of A Stranger

He looked at me with deep-rooted fear in his eyes.

He flinches. He steps back onto his friend's foot.

His face contorts displaying a mixture of fright and anger.

One hand clenches into a tight fist, knuckles white.

The other hand instinctively reaches for the sheathed sword on his belt.

Is this how Phil felt when I gazed upon him with fear? His impulsive mannerisms too characteristic of the hostile mobs which hunted me down in barren forests. His heart so full of rage against the ones who wronged me.

Is this how Tommy sees me?

Does he see me as the man people claim I used to be? He is obviously very frightened by seeing my physical ghostly form now that the invisibility potion wore off. Does he think I'm going to talk down on him, does he think I will hurt him? Does he know I was just muckin' about?

I can see the moment he realizes when and where he is. Icey eyes winden, looking with interest at my sickly, pale grey skin. His grip on the diamond sword loosens. A breath of relief is exiled from his lungs. He straightens his posture.

Does Tommy see this version of me as the real one? Does he see me as a shell of who I used to be, a supposed tyrannical leader who is a stranger to me?

I occasionally saw Phil as a shell.

When Phil would grow red with anger, wing feathers bristling and fingers fidgeting, I knew in my heart's mind this isn't the real Phil. My heart dropped. I always wanted to throw up. I knew the way this beast slashed its sword and fired arrows relentlessly isn't the man I know, the father I love. This shell which was before me lacked consideration and empathy; its only drive to fight, no matter the worldly costs.

The rare time Phil, the shell of a full man, made an appearance, he would leave us frightened in the grass, our poor minds left to pass out from exhaustion. Phil would throw himself into a fight, his soldier tendencies forcing their way to the front of his mind. Wings which at one point held us safe and secure turned into weapons of murder. The next morning he would apologize, breaking down in front of us. He would feel deep regret for his actions.

Dad, my Phil, has a kind, caring soul. He would never throw himself into a fight which unnecessarily risks his life. He would stand in front of us frightened fledglings, wings spread wide and strong blocking us from view. He would speak with such authority that even enemies would obey. Dad would cuddle us to his chest, whisk us away under the starry sky. Our sobs muffled by the heavy fabric of his attire, fears lost in the winds of flight. Soft grey wings would encompass us, hold us safe and warm until a dreamless slumber took over.

Did I ever have regret for the actions my past self inflicted upon family and friends?

An ambitious Wilbur once had the same care as Dad.

A crazed Wilbur once had the same care as Phil.

I am neither, but a ghost lost in a sea of memories which will never fit together, pieces scrambled in the tattered will of a broken brain.

I never meant to scare Tommy like this. I never knew that I could scare him! What started out as playful pranking led to this. I thought a little fun with an invisibility potion wouldn’t hurt anybody. Tommy laughed every time I bowed him down respawning in his house only to run back out collecting his items to be shot again. Tubbo was laughing, although trying to hide it from their friend. Even Phil let free a light chuckle now and then. It was when I was standing directly in front of Tommy, an arrow pointed straight for his heart, that my potion wore off and he froze. He looked at me with genuine terror.

I never want him to look at me like that again.

When Phil saunders past my semi-corporeal form and gathers the teens in a winged embrace, akin to how Phil used to hold Tech and I, I pocket my bow and give the trio space. They share words, thoughts and feelings muttered too quietly to be heard.

Blasts of fireworks ring in my ears.

I continue to hover about just out of earshot. I twist my fingers together more and more as time passes.

I just want to know if my little brother hates me. I thought we were doing so well. The moment we were just sharing felt like we were younger again, running amuck in the cornfields outside of Phil’s home, not a care in the world aside from the chores Phil gave us. My face sore from smiling in joy.

I can’t remember the last time the muscles in my face were taunt from happiness rather than sorrow.

Where did I go wrong? Was it the way I cackled with laughter? Was it the clothing I chose to wear? Was it the way I aimed an arrow straight for his very being? Did it awaken something in Tommy that I am failing to remember?

An explosion…

Lots of shouting…

A betrayal...

I just can’t remember.

I want to remember.

Why won't anyone fill in the fucking gaps!

Phil clears his throat drawing me away from the downpour. Light wetness dampers my face.

Under one wing Tommy and Tubbo are huddled together, gripping on to one another with such desperation, almost as they are afraid of being split. Dad spreads his other magnificent wing towards me, the outermost feathers curling of their own will to brush against my yellow woolen sweater. When I don't make eye contact with him the feathers stretch further to tickle my chin, forcing myself to give him attention. No verbal communication is needed with the look he burns into my soul; warm, familiar and welcoming.

I summon my corporeal form and run into his open embrace like I would when I was a small child. I weep openly, not bothering to hold back my sobs. Dad rests a warm, heavy hand along my shoulder blade, and cocoons the four of us within his wings. A thin hand lightly rests on my left shoulder, I look up with blurry vision through tears to find out the owner.

Looking back at me with just as tearful eyes is Tommy with a wobbly, heartfelt smile. With my arm not slung around Dad's waist I rest my hand on his shoulder as well. I rest our foreheads against one another, tears mingling as they fall to the wooden path below.

I don't know where I went wrong. Eventually I will find out what happened.

I pray to Aether above that I never have to face Tommy's look of fear and distrust again.

For now, familial love and comfort is what both our souls need.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Next part is gonna be same situation but from Rommy's POV. Come follow me on twt @blockiebee!


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